


Flurries

by pregnantzombie



Category: South Park
Genre: Fluff, Frottage, M/M, POV First Person, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29868096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pregnantzombie/pseuds/pregnantzombie
Summary: He gives me this appreciative smile that turns my gentle heart to a fluttering mess. It’s snowing outside, soft flurries piling around the storefront behind him in the window. The bright white illuminates him in a delicate way that makes my cheeks warm and my hands cold.Craig helps Tweek close the coffee shop. Just a little fluff and smut.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	Flurries

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! This is my first Creek fic (that I'm posting) so I hope it's enjoyable~

“How’s it going, Tweek?”

The familiar voice comes from a regular customer whose name eludes me. But I recognize his face so I force a smile.

“Great!” I squeak out the lie and twitch in place. The twitch might be a tell for others, but I do it so fucking often no one would know the difference.

“That’s great,” he agrees and places an order for the brew of the day.

My fingers shiver but I’m able to float around behind the counter cohesively enough to deftly produce his beverage and send him along. Fortunately, he takes it to go and leaves the shop nearly as quickly as he came. I sigh and toss my cleaning rag on the counter.

It’s an hour before closing and I’ve been accosted by customers since opening before the sun even peaked its head around the mountaintops. My body is wrung ragged and I’m sure the stale smell of coffee and vanilla beans and body odor mingle on me. I feel like a marionette by now, tugging feebly at the strings just to make this used, stiff frame move through the motions.

I suppose I should be grateful for Tweek Bros coffee house, though. It’s one of the two constants in my life among the unwelcome spontaneity that plagues this small town. I take the rag and aimlessly scrub circles in the same spot on the counter on repeat. I should really start my closing duties so I can get out of here at a decent time. But I don’t. I just zone out, occasionally jerk my body in a twitch, and scrub the same flippant spot.

As if on cue, the second constant in my life abruptly walks into the shop. The door jingles with the welcoming bell attached to the top and in walks Craig Tucker. His nose is red from the cold and he tucks it downward to breathe some warm air around himself. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his navy blue outmost layer. 

“Craig…” I welcome him and my heart stutters and soars like a baby bird taking its first flight. A little life finds its way to my face and shoulders and I perk up. “You’re here.”

“It’s closing time,” he states simply, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing.

A broad smile crosses my face and I cross the room to meet him at the door. He takes a step forward and pulls a hand from his pocket to offer it to me. I’m too eager, too brash, and ignore the gesture in favor of leaping into his arms. He envelopes me immediately, and I’m suddenly feeling warm. It’s the comforting steam of a sauna, the coziness of a blanket fresh from the dryer, the familiarity of a hot bowl of soup.

“You’re an hour early for closing,” I nuzzle his neck and he holds me close.

“I’ll help,” he offers, and I could cry from the relief.

Instead, I thank him with a kiss. Our heads tilt in the empty coffee house and our lips meet. It’s amazing how he tastes exactly like he acts. It’s routine but it’s laced with spice, it’s familiar but it’s exciting. We press our mouths together chastely, but linger in each other’s presence for what could either be a moment or eternity.

“So what can I do, honey?”

I smile at the familiar childhood nickname and break away from him to retrieve the mop and broom. Ten minutes ago I felt the weight of the world collapsing on me, but now I feel as light as a feather dancing on the wind. I don’t know what Craig has planned, but I’m eager to go along with him. 

“Here,” I present him with the tools a moment later.

“Giving me the bitch work, I see,” he smirks.

“No,” I protest. “I just don’t want to have to _ngh_ teach you to close the till and clean the ma- _argh_ -machinery!”

“Calm down, babe,” he lays his free hand on my shoulder, and I do. “I’m just messing with you.”

I give him a grunt to show I understand his joking and begrudgingly pull away to actually begin my closing detail. Then, I remember my manners.

“It’s cold,” I muse. “Do you want, um, a hot drink?”

He gives me this appreciative smile that turns my gentle heart to a fluttering mess. It’s snowing outside, soft flurries piling around the storefront behind him in the window. The bright white illuminates him in a delicate way that makes my cheeks warm and my hands cold.

“Anything but the house blend,” he agrees.

I try to think straight for long enough to decide on what to make, ultimately choosing a nice mocha with extra whipped cream. The espresso machine whirs for its last time this evening and I froth the milk in a little metal jug. I slosh a bit of extra chocolate sauce in for my sweetheart and then, having assembled something fitting for him, I cross the shop to where he sweeps and hand him the steaming drink. Our fingers brush. Our eyes meet. Then he turns away to take a sip.

“It’s good,” he states simply, but his face indicates more. It’s adoration and gratitude in one, and that’s all I need for my chest to swell.

The soft jazz that I have learned to hate over the years plays overhead in the otherwise quiet shop. We work in relative quiet, only interrupted by my involuntary outbursts. I wish I could stop jittering, but Craig doesn’t seem to mind.

Eventually he retires the broom and retrieves the mop. I make haste with the countertops and count the drawer. We’ve broken even today, but that’s actually a good thing. The snowy weather has made for a relatively slow business day. Not that anyone would know that, judging from my appearance.

Smears of chocolate, spilt coffee, and unknown stains adorn my Tweek Bros apron and make their way up the sleeves of my olive green button down. I’m a veritable mess. But that’s my own doing rather than the result of a hectic day. Across the room, Craig finishes mopping, wipes his brow, and downs another gulp of the drink I made special for him.

“Record timing,” I beam at him and begin untying my apron.

“You’re welcome,” he smiles just wide enough for me to catch a glimpse of his dimples.

I’m a puddle at this and let myself sweep away in the romantic notion that my boyfriend has come, unannounced, to help me close shop for the day. His crooked teeth vanish beneath his lips as quickly as they appeared, however.

“What about the back room?” Craig seems to suddenly realize and asks.

I must have been smiling, too, because suddenly it falters.

“Fuck,” I curse.

He tip toes cautiously over the freshly mopped floors and makes to open the back room door for me. I step in and he ushers me through with a warm palm on my shoulder. Something tickles my spine at his touch, like soft ivy creeping up an old building.

I attempt to focus and take a scan of the room. The hefty bags of beans are all stacked to the side, the condiments and syrups neatly line the shelves, and the machinery very nearly glistens in its orderly state.

“It… _gah_ actually looks fine back here,” I announce.

Craig’s hand hasn’t left my shoulder, and that hasn’t gone unnoticed. It’s something that feels guarded like home and it leaves something smoldering and warm in my belly. I don’t feel so twitchy. I turn to face him. There’s something soft around the rough edges of Craig. I can’t place it and I don’t need to. I can barely hear the jazz music playing overhead.

“That means we finished early,” my soft voice comes out as a whisper as his hand rises to cup my cheek.

My knees feel weak, like a baby deer learning to stand for the first time. His hand is calloused and his fingernails blunt against my skin. My breath hitches in my throat like I might choke, but I don’t. Instead something like a combination of a coo and a whine passes my lips, and I stand still beneath him. 

“That doesn’t mean you can leave early, does it?” Craig asks me, his voice low.

“No,” I press my cheek further into his hand and let my eyes flutter shut.

Craig dips his head and whispers against my mouth, “Then we’ll stay.”

I bridge the gap and kiss him. It’s a delicate sweep, chapped lips barely gracing each other. We break apart but remain dangerously close, and I feel a pleasant anxiety course over me. This time he kisses me, and it’s with more vigor. The taste of chocolate and espresso linger on him though his cup has been abandoned by now. 

It’s the sweet press of caution combined with want as we stand alone in the chilly back room of Tweek Bros. My arms shake but they find their way to slip around his trim waist and draw him closer. He pushes his lips harder this time, like he’s searching for an answer to a question. So I reply the only way I know how and push deeper, too.

The feeling in my spine morphs into something more frantic, like a lizard skittering across hot sand. My hands grip onto Craig’s shirt and I pull him in. He obliges readily and supports my back with his free hand. I lean in and give myself over to this moment.

I’m dizzy from the swell of emotion bubbling in my stomach. My blood fizzes like a freshly popped bottle of champagne. Craig’s touch strengthens and I’m grateful. I’m so overcome I feel like I could collapse beneath him. I’m vaguely aware of the snow glistening in the windowpane, lighting up the room in a soft white glow.

His tongue trails along my lips and I gasp. He makes purchase of the opportunity and let’s his tongue glide into my mouth. Still, the kiss feels so pure. So pure it almost wraps back around to being lewd and I catch myself slipping a small moan. I can feel him smiling against me and it’s all I can do not to fight back my own.

“Craig…” I whisper his name into his mouth. He catches my lip and gives it a little cheeky nip.

I feel warm all over like clothing hanging to dry in the sun. My arms reach up and wrap around his neck. He dips us even further to the point where I’m afraid I’ll tumble to the ground if I ever let go. So I don’t. I cling harder, as if everything is dependent upon it. And in a way, it is.

His skin is pink and hot along his cheeks. My eyes flutter open and close sporadically. My heart feels like a bomb in a bird cage, ticking dangerously. Craig’s touch tingles my skin as his hand slips up the back side of my button down shirt.

He nudges a knee between my legs to balance us. My grip is unwavering around his neck, and he holds me as close as I hold his heart. He breaks the kiss only to nuzzle my neck and I’m on fire. Row after row of sweet kisses find their way up and down my sensitive skin. I feel delirious and only vaguely aware that we’re making out in the back room of the coffee house. It feels irrelevant in the moment.

“I love you,” I catch myself murmuring, too swept away to be embarrassed by saying such things.

A throaty sound muffles itself against my neck and I feel teeth press against a sensitive spot. I whimper, but it only urges Craig to push further. My head lolls like a rag doll beneath him as I watch the snow fall outside and I let one of my hands push the chullo off his head to tangle my hand in the thick mess of black hair.

Craig is one to show and act rather than say what he’s feeling, so I feel satisfied in the reciprocation. He pushes us back a few steps until we’re backed up against a stack of heavy bags of coffee beans. I stumble, and before I know it we’re sitting atop approximately 100 pounds of coffee.

He wastes no time and kisses me again. This time, though, it’s hungry and it’s very nearly desperate. I lap at him with the same wanton need. I can feel my lips growing puffy and raw but I don’t care. I can feel steam within myself like a pressure cooker, bubbling and begging to be released. 

His hands trace up and down my back erratically and I instinctively pull him against me. 

“Fuck, Tweek,” he groans as I tug on his hair.

Spurned by desire for my love, I swing a leg around to straddle him atop the coffee beans. My thighs tremble as his breath catches in his throat. He’s as shocked as I am by my sudden boldness. All I want to do is kiss him, swallow him whole, and hold in my claim. So I do.

Our bodies are flush now, interrupted only by the crinkly of the beans beneath us. He drinks me in faster than he did his mocha. Our mouths clash slightly, our teeth clack as we feverishly pick up the pace. Craig’s hands slide their way to my thighs, dancing in arrhythmic frustration deciding whether to settle there or on my hips.

Everything feels monumental. Every touch of his hands on my body, every push of his lips deep against mine, every flick of his tongue. It’s everything and yet I’m greedy for more. He settles on my hips and holds my squirming body against his.

“Are...are we…?” I elude to what we’re leaning in towards doing, right here in my father’s pride and joy.

“Only if you want to,” his voice comes surprisingly calmly, but low and husky and filled with want.

I kiss him feverishly like my life depends on it. Of course I want it. I want it so desperately. There’s no reticence in my actions. I gasp and moan at his every touch, every grace of his fingers on my heated skin, every febrile kiss against my swollen mouth.

Craig shucks his jacket to the floor with little hesitation and reveals his old, tattered NASA shirt beneath. I’ve always loved it on him. It’s riddled with holes and laced with sweet memories. My fingers slip their way up the top and he gasps at my cold touch. But the flames between us are more than enough despite my icy fingertips.

My heart hammers in my throat like a construction worker on cement. I’m so desperate for more, for everything, for every piece of him. My legs begin to rock against him of their own volition. My body moves of its own accord.

Craig reaches up and lets go of me. My stomach makes a strained, fluttering feeling as he begins to unbutton my top. I feel so restricted in it and I hadn’t even realized until he began to free me. But then again, that’s just what Craig does to me, isn't it. A break down of barriers I didn’t even know I was holding up.

He finally reaches the last button and his hands are like a flash, warm and hard against my exposed chest. He’s back in the crook of my neck again, kissing and nipping at me with growing urgency. I want him to take every part of me, rearrange me however he so feels fitting. And he does.

I’m grinding by now, the fervor mounting at a new high. I don’t just want him, I don’t just need him. It’s an itch to be scratched, a craving to be obtained. I can’t contain myself. My jittering hands reach for his pants and I begin undoing his jeans. He’s undone my heart, so doing the same to his pants is the least I can do in return.

The dim light illuminates his face and all the rough spots seem so soft. 

“M-move,” I urge him, and he accommodates my command before I can even finish the word.

His hips buck up and he allows for me to begin tugging his pants down. The excitement tears through me faster than a sharp knife through a sheet of paper. This isn’t our first time, and it won’t be our last. But every time I’m eager, willing, and easy.

He’s ready as he’ll ever be as well. The vision of the strong young man so tangled up in me has a thick lump in my throat I can’t seem to swallow. And I don’t want it to go away. I want to stay in this moment forever, a frenzy of greedy limbs and shaking hands and trembling hearts. I move as deftly as I can to undo my own pants.

“Here,” his steady voice guides me as much as his hands do. “Let me...help…”

Together we unbutton my jeans and I have to get off his lap for an agonizing moment to free myself as well. My dick is as swollen as my heart, throbbing in time with his gentle yet firm ministrations. Craig takes the lead once again and yanks around at the folds of fabric until both our cocks meet the chilled air. I tremble just a little.

He guides my hand down to himself, and I hope my hands have warmed up a little by now. Apparently not because he lets out the smallest wince before settling into a comfortable groan. Despite myself, I run my hand down his shaft until I meet the thicket of dark black hairs, then back up towards the head. His hands follow suit.

I gasp into the still air when he touches me. I’m a complete mess already, whining and kissing him sloppily. It’s a rage of hormones, lust, and need. He's barely graced the tip of my cock and I’m begging for more, begging for him. 

Our hands work in as close to tandem as possible. His hot breath tickles against my bare chest in ragged puffs. I want to scream his name but the words die on my tongue. I want to let it all out but I’m not there yet. Still, he encourages me with his nimble fingers. Craig works my shaft like he works everything- slow, methodical, at his own pace. As much as I want and need more, I wouldn’t change this for anything. My frantic hands pump his cock, much faster than he works me. 

“Babe,” he lets out something between a chuckle and a moan. “Slow down, you’re gonna kill me.”

And so I try to slow, but it’s hard. It’s hard not getting everything I want from him exactly when I want it. I want to rush, I want to soar, I want to become a mess of bodies. But Craig is more like a beating drum, steady, slow, unyielding. My vision blurs when he pulls me even closer and wraps his hands around both of us, setting a new pace.

Eagerly, I feel myself fuck into his hand. A cacophony of emotions loudly make their way through my whole body. I’m shaking, quivering, yearning. Still, Craig takes his own pace with us. His steadfast hand strokes up and down, pressing the underside of our cocks together. I can’t tell what feels better- the pulse of his heartbeat through his cock against mine or the reliable hand guiding our flesh in an aching up and down motion.

I feel wild like an animal that’s just been released from a cage. I can hear my own voice somewhere distant, moaning and calling out for my love.

“Craig,” it says in a voice I almost recognize. “Craig, fuck man, I need you… I need you so bad…”

“You have me,” comes the growling reply.

I kiss him again and it’s all frantic teeth and tongues. I’m getting close. The burn in my belly churns with wanton flames for him. Craig’s everything right now, and I need everything. I want more, and more, and more. 

He’s getting close and I can feel it. His grip tightens and it’s all I can do to hold myself together. My hips buck and thrash into his fist. I’m frantic, filled with a fiery tension I can only get from him. The low feeling in my belly takes over and I’m close too.

“Fuck, babe,” Craig grunts in that way that he does.

It’s too much for me to handle and I can feel the pressure building. I’m not going to last long. He manages to keep his steady rhythm despite my wildness. It’s visceral and it’s raw and it’s aching. I can’t hold myself together and I don’t want to. So I don’t.

I give him one last fuck into his fist before my cum spills over both our cocks. It doesn’t deter him, but rather spurns him on to finish himself off too. There’s a few more pumps and Craig’s swollen dick shoots its load into his palm. I’m panting, gulping for air like a fish out of water. I’m certain I smell terrible from the workday and the exertion I’ve put into bouncing on my boyfriend’s lap. It doesn’t matter in the moment, though.

Craig kisses me roughly and I wrap my arms around his neck to pull him back in. It’s his way of showing me how good I’ve been. The kiss slowly mellows back into something more sweet than spicy until we’ve both caught our breath. He plants one final, firm kiss to my lips then pulls away.

“I love you,” his voice comes softer than before. It’s sincere and sweet and genuine in a way that makes my insides squirm and writhe.

“I love you, too,” I reciprocate in the gentlest tone I can muster, although I still must sound fairly frenzied.

He has the audacity to yawn, but I know it’s because sex always makes him sleepy and marshmallow-like.

“What time is it?” Craig asks with the normalcy returning to his deep voice.

“9:35,” I reply, glancing at the wall clock.

“Come on,” he hoists me off his lap and begins looking for stray napkins to clean up with. “I’ll walk you home.”

My heart flutters at this, even though we just had sex in the backroom. I couldn’t possibly ask for anyone else as a better half.

“Okay,” I agree, carelessly buttoning my shirt closed again.

We don our coats and make our way to the front entrance where I shakily and cautiously dim the lights and lock the front door. Another day squared away, complete with Craig to make it all worthwhile. The snow has really accumulated outside and the chill creeps over my entire being.

Craig pulls me into a hug from behind as I pocket the shop keys. He grabs for my hand as we walk and laces his fingers through mine. He stuffs both our hands into the warmth of his coat pocket. I smile briskly, feeling renewed.

The walk home is comfortably quiet, save for my occasional outbursts. He soothes me every time. The snow crunches wetly beneath our feet. It’s still coming down in fat, white clumps. I can feel my hair weighing down from the heaviness. Craig occasionally shoots me a fond glance. My face feels warm despite the cold snow.

It’s not long before we reach my house, and then my doorstep. My parents have left the porch light on. Snowflakes dance in the orange beam of light. Craig stands with me before the door and holds my hands in his. I gaze up at him with every ounce of love I can convey.

He kisses me between the snowflakes. Everything is wet and warm. I can feel him smiling into the kiss, and I kiss him back. It’s short but it says everything I want it to say. Then he breaks away.

“Goodnight, Tweek,” he kisses my forehead and then turns from the porch to disappear into the snowy evening.

I’m left with my eyelashes fluttering and my heart like a hummingbird. I don’t know where tomorrow will take me, but I know Craig will be there with me. And it’s everything.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy this, I'd love to hear about it! It's the easiest way to get me to write more haha.


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